About Marcie

Our Marcie, my beautiful wife, was an intelligent woman who battled metastasized cancer of the breast for several years. She remains in memory a globetrotter, book lover and movie buff whose quick wit was tempered with the worldly wisdom her far-flung adventures lent her. I extend her warm welcome to our family, friends and lives and loves past who find us here.

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Tuesday, August 5, 2008

There was a muggy summer day in Humboldt County. Marcie had been to Wildberries, leaving without me and coming back in the misty heat. She slipped into the room as I toiled at the computer, pulling together a piece on The Dunes.

"Honey, are you hungry?" she asked.

I had heard her come in and kept working. But I stopped and considered the question. As was usual when I was working, my mind over-thought everything. Would this be a menu request afterward? Does she want to go have breakfast?

Her hand slid over my neck cool and soft and she began to massage me. I took a deep breath and enjoyed the sensation of her touch on me, the smell of her hair as she leaned down to read my work, and the smell of blueberries.

I saw in her other hand a little plate of blueberries, strawberries and bananas. A "donut stick," an unhealthful favorite of mine, was there, too. I smiled and licked my lips. She turned and kissed me, smiling.

It was a good, content, quiet kiss. Seamus did not even stir in my lap. Afterward, the story seemed clearer and I rushed through it with ease.

"You need to eat, Mr. Reporter," she said. She fed me the fruit and the donut playfully whenever I paused.

When I was done, she smiled as I saved and shook her head. I looked up quizzically.

"Oh, honey," she said. "It was a great story, I'm sure they'll like it. You're really good at this."

I was very proud, because she was a discerning reader. We fooled around, then bathed each other in cool water, and lounged the rest of the day in front of fans, watching television. It was just a simple, good day.